


Is Love a Gift or a Curse?

by Moonshoes_Potter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Cas is Calypso, Fluff, Greek Mythology AU, M/M, Modern Setting, Pilot!Dean, Sad, lots of plants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 04:40:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13651626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonshoes_Potter/pseuds/Moonshoes_Potter
Summary: Dean’s jet malfunctions over the water and he wakes up on an island. There’s magic and love in the air as Castiel shows Dean around and tells him his story.Based on the Greek myth of Calypso in Ogygia.





	Is Love a Gift or a Curse?

Dean put on his sunglasses and started to climb into the cockpit of the jet. He turned last minute, waving to Sam like the pilots in those old war films. Sam simply rolled his eyes and flipped the page in his philosophy book. Dean supposed that his brother would get desensitized to seeing him take off every day, but Dean never got tired of it. His stomach fluttered as the jet sped down the runway. Dean pulled back and went airborne. He couldn’t help but smile.

Dean went through his usual exercises, instructed through his headset. Finally reaching the ocean, he dipped as close as he could to the water, then sharply rocketed upwards. He couldn’t feel the wind in his face, but gravity and acceleration pulling him against his seat had roughly the same effect. Through the blood rushing in his ears, Dean vaguely registered someone talking to him. After a moment he realized his instructor was shouting through the headset. 

“Level out!” Her voice was higher than normal. “Your jet is malfunctioning! Get close to the water!”

Something started beeping rapidly. “It’s too late for that,” Dean fastened his parachute. “It’s gonna blow; I gotta get out.” He slipped on his mask, closed his eyes, and ejected.

Wind assaulted what little of Dean’s face was exposed as he tumbled through the air. Now that he was out of the jet, he could see that one of the engines was smoking. He started fumbling with the chute. Finally it flew open and caught him in the air, but it wasn’t very long before the jet exploded and knocked Dean unconscious.

Dean woke up on some beach. The sun shone through his closed eyelids. He could smell the sea and hear the waves. As he got up and blinked hard to adjust his vision, sand tumbled off his chest. Dean removed the mangled mask from his face and took off his parachute, the sail of which was floating in the water behind him. 

With a start, Dean realized there was a person standing a few feet away from him. He scrambled to his feet and sized up the stranger in a defensive stance. The man had strikingly blue eyes, which were squinting against the sun, and windblown black hair. He wore nothing but an off-white woven cloth draped over one shoulder and around his waist. It was strangely pristine, considering this man looked tan enough to have been on this beach for hours. 

“Hello, Dean,” The man’s voice was gravelly and deep. Dean had a moment of panic as to how the man knew his name, then remembered it was sewn on the front of his uniform.

“Who are you? Where am I?” Dean looked around. He was on an island peppered with various trees. In the center, a small mud brick house stood, surrounded by a colorful garden of fruit and flowers. A stone path wound through the garden and down to the beach where the two men now stood.

“This my home, Ogygia,” The stranger smiled serenely. “My name is Castiel.”

“Ogygia?” The name jostled Dean’s memory. Some old myth from eighth grade resurfaced, but he couldn’t place it. Maybe it was Greek or Roman; he wasn’t sure.

“Yes. My home.”

“Is there anyone else here?”

“Just you and me. You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like.”

“I can’t, I gotta get back to Sam, I--” Dean swore. “How long have I been out?”

Castiel gazed at the horizon thoughtfully. “Time is difficult here. I’d say perhaps two days.”

Dean rubbed his chin, trying to think. “Look, I have to get back home.” Castiel’s face fell. “My little brother probably thinks I’m dead. Wait, am I dead?”

“No, you’ve simply landed here.” Castiel sighed.

“Then I’ve gotta get home.” Dean started gathering the stuff that had fallen out of his pockets. He found his phone, only to see the screen was cracked beyond function. He paced in frustration.

“That won’t work,” Castiel told him dejectedly, gesturing to the dead phone. “Too much magic in the air.”

Dean stopped in his tracks. He slowly turned to look at Castiel. “...Magic?”

“Yes. Here,” Castiel grabbed Dean’s hand. “Let me show you.”

Castiel led Dean over through the garden to the small house. As they walked along the stone path, Dean saw that very few of the plants in the beds were ones he recognized. He was no botanist, but these flowers were definitely otherworldly. In one patch the gold petals seemed to sparkle; in another red swirled to blue. Some of the flowers actually rotated to watch Dean and seemed to tilt their ‘heads’, almost like they were curious about him.

The two of them reached a courtyard of sorts. In the middle of the circle sat a crackling fire surrounded by a ring of rocks. On the edge was a small marble bench and what looked like a small loom. A piece of fabric much like the one Castiel wore was half-finished on the wooden frame. Castiel sat on the bench, patting the seat next to him for Dean to do the same. Dean reluctantly obliged, wondering how ancient clothes were magic.

Castiel sat on the edge of the bench, planted his feet, and started weaving. For a few seconds, Dean watched his hands work. Then Castiel began to sing. If he thought Castiel’s normal voice was gorgeous before, it was nothing compared to his singing. He sang a low and lilting tune in some foreign language that somehow reminded Dean of what he felt when watching a candle die. In his mind’s eye, he saw a blanket fall onto an open flame, putting it out. Castiel continued on as he sang. The fabric slowly took the form of a white t-shirt not unlike the one Dean had on beneath his uniform.

Despite all the stunning and strange flowers in the garden, Dean’s eyes were glued to Cas. He admired every simple but unique motion of his hands on the loom and the muscles in his arms. Cas stopped singing and Dean blinked. The shirt was complete, but unremarkable. Castiel handed it to him.

“What did you do?” Dean asked, feeling the texture of the threads under his fingers.

Cas smiled proudly. “It’s fireproof.”

Dean looked up at him skeptically. It didn’t feel at all like those fire blankets he’d find in public buildings. “Prove it.”

“Very well,” Cas walked over to the fire pit and tossed the shirt in. Dean watched closely. The flames licked the material, but didn’t catch.

 

“That’s amazing.” Dean marveled. He quickly plucked the shirt from the fire. It wasn’t even hot. He went to hand it back, but Cas refused.

“It’s yours,” He said with a smile.

“No, I couldn’t.”

“I insist.”

Dean grinned bashfully and muttered “okay.” He unbuttoned his uniform and took off his old t-shirt, tossing it into the fire, where it burned to a crisp. He stopped for a moment to feel the sun warm his chest, then slipped Cas’s gift over his head. It fit perfectly. Dean wondered if it was because of Cas’s magic singing or if he knew Dean’s exact measurements. He hoped it was the former.

Before Dean could finish rebuttoning his uniform, Cas grasped his hand again and pulled him toward the small building. Dean thought he heard someone laugh at him tripping. He didn’t have time to look back, but he had a sneaking suspicion the voice belonged to the foliage.

Inside the building, an amazing smell hung in the air. It combined everything Dean loved, from fresh burgers to the inside of the Impala, and he even detected a hint of fine whiskey. Normally, these things probably would have smelled terrible put together, but something here made them all fit. Magic, he guessed. There was also an undertone of honey, but that didn’t mean anything to Dean. Maybe it was just what tied all the other smells together.

“The aroma is different for everyone,” Cas explained, as if reading his thoughts. He pointed to the small, frontmost flower pot on the table, the contents of which had petals in the shape of yellow-orange hearts. “It’s supposed to smell like home.”

Dean made a noise of acknowledgement and looked around. Despite the low ceiling and rather poor lighting, it was the most beautiful and cheerful home Dean had ever set foot in. Every windowsill had a flower box on it, bursting with color and buzzing with bees. Tapestries and illustrations of various people hung on every wall. Some were painted directly on the brick. Bizarre plants were stored in every pocket of space. Cas smiled fondly as Dean explored the house, but it faded to sadness when he remembered--

“Cas, I gotta get home,” Dean said suddenly. “My family’s gonna be worried sick. I mean, this place is amazing, but I… I can’t do that to them.”

Cas put his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “I understand. I will arrange for you to go home.” Dean looked terribly relieved. Cas took a breath and continued, “How about you stay for just one more night?”

Dean nodded sincerely and gave a small smile, which Cas returned. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Cas pulled out a chair for each of them at round wooden table. He plucked two large berries from a bonsai tree, handing one to Dean and taking the other for himself. Dean turned it over in his strong but gentle hands.

Cas was pulled back to reality by Dean asking, “So is this lunch? You gonna sing to it?”

Cas chuckled. “No, I’m going to spin it.” He demonstrated by holding his berry by the stem and spinning it like a top. The berry flattened like a frisbee until it was about the size and shape of a tortilla. Then Cas rolled it up and took a bite. Dean grinned and tried for himself. 

If you had asked Dean to describe the taste, the only words he could have come up with that accurately captured it would be “bright” and “running”. Much like the rest of Ogygia, this berry was simply on another level of feeling. 

A small voice in the corner of Dean’s mind wondered what that made Cas. Dean didn’t know whether this voice was suspicious, excited, or both. All he could be sure of was that he wanted to find out more. 

“Hey, Cas?” He began cautiously, not wanting to be offensive. “Why’re you the only one here?”

“I’m not.” Cas’s face looked innocent. Too innocent, Dean thought. “You’re with me.”

“I mean before that. How has no one discovered this place and told everyone about it?” The questions in his mind were pushing in line to be asked. 

“I haven’t had many visitors. Those who have come here don’t seem to be the telling type. Besides, would anyone believe them?” Cas shrugged and retrieved a tea tray from the small kitchen. 

“How many visitors?” Dean tried to keep his tone casual. 

Cas thought for a moment while he poured. “It’s difficult to say. Time is hard to track in Ogygia. But I’d guess about five in the last thousand years.” He pursed his lips as Dean spat out his tea. Dean hoped it wasn’t in disgust. 

“A thousand years?!” Dean sputtered. 

“More. I have magic.” Cas gave Dean a pointed look. “You would live forever too if you could.”

“Yeah…” Dean admitted. Then another realization hit him. “Wait, you’ve only talked to five people in the last thousand years? How have you not gone crazy?”

“Do you think I’m not?” Avoiding the question, Dean noticed. Still, that smile was nothing short of adorable. Shut up, Dean told himself. 

“Maybe a little. But, y’know, isn’t everyone?” They both chuckled. “Don’t you get lonely? Or tired of watching people leave?”

“You have no idea,” Cas said wistfully, gazing out the window. Dean was starting to remember that old myth.

“How did you get here?” He leaned forward.

Cas sighed. No turning back now. “I was put here by God as punishment for what my brother did.”

Dean pushed past the ‘God’ part and asked, “Why? Did you help him?”

“No, but he knew I would.”

“He put you on an island in the middle of nowhere for something you MIGHT have done?” Dean said incredulously.

“I’d rather not talk about it…” Cas definitely looked uncomfortable. Some ivy climbing up the wall opposite the window started to wilt. At this point, Dean was neither surprised that Cas had a mood-sensing plants nor did he care. 

“It’s alright.” Dean reached out to put his hand on Cas’s. Their tea laying forgotten, the two of them moved to sit on the couch, where Dean started to ask Cas about his decor while stroking his hand reassuringly. 

“The tapestries are imbued with my magic,” Cas pointed to one that was a detailed image of a handsome and well-built man. He looked young but had crow’s feet. “That one smiles sometimes.”

“Who is it?” Dean couldn’t help but notice how defined the man’s muscles were.

Cas’s expression didn’t change, but the ivy’s leaves turned slightly pink and shied away from the sunlight. “One of my visitors. He was a very cheerful man.”

“Did you make it after he left?”

“Yes. I have a perfect memory, so I remember everyone who leaves me.” Cas looked away. “I’m also cursed to fall in love with all the people who cannot stay.”

Dean didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t. He pulled Cas towards him into a tight hug. A knot formed in his chest as he contemplated what it must be like, to be heartbroken over and over for eternity. A small hum met his ears. The ivy was starting to bloom. Small pink buds matched the red leaves. The insides seemed to be singing but were muffled because they had not opened yet. 

Dean released Cas from the embrace and they stared at each other, hardly an inch apart. The humming grew louder. It sounded roughly like the tune of “Kiss the Girl”, but Dean was probably imagining it. He put one hand on Cas’s face and leaned in.

Cas turned away. “I can’t. Not again.”

“You’ll never be happy if you keep pushing people away.” Dean tried not to take it personally. “Love is pain, but it’s also part of being human.” Cas let out a small sob. Dean cupped his cheek. “Hey, it’s alright.”

Cas shook his head, then looked back at Dean with tears in his eyes. To Dean’s pleasant surprise, Cas made up his mind and smashed his lips against Dean’s. As they kissed, Dean heart the ivy sing like an unearthly viola. If he cared, he’d know that the flowers had opened. The only thought going through his head as Cas pulled him toward the small bedroom was ‘so that’s why the table plant smelled like honey.’

~~~~~

Dreaming seemed to be the one normal part of Ogygia. While in the real world Dean’s dreams would be fuzzy and confusing, as he slept soundly next to Cas he enjoyed peacefully sitting atop the cotton clouds. He watched birds fly in and out of view. The sky was clear of airplanes for the whole time he was asleep. 

Dean woke up at peace. He had no obligations or worries on his mind. All he wanted to think about was the sweet honey smell of Cas, who was snoring softly six inches in front of him. Dean opened his eyes, taking a moment to appreciate Cas’s relaxed face and bare chest. 

Then the bliss wore off. It occurred to Dean that he was laying in bed with someone he’d known for only a day (a man, no less), on an island in the middle of the ocean, and his family definitely thought he was dead. Dean scrambled off the bed and started putting his clothes back on.

He tried to walk out of the room as quietly as possible, but one of the tapestries (a young woman with bright red hair) loudly bid him a good morning. Cas blinked awake, though did not look surprised.

“Good morning, Hannah.” He greeted the tapestry like it was routine. Hannah’s face reset like an animation loop and repeated her sentence. Cas pursed his lips. He grabbed his piece of clothing fabric and wrapped it around himself as he walked into the living room. Dean, not knowing what else to do, followed him.

Cas prepared some tea. The steam curled into letters, seeming to partially spell out the thoughts of the holder. Dean’s looked like someone had scrawled words such as “home” and “Sam” out of translucent green ink. Cas’s words were made of lovely blue cursive and read “stay,” “choice,” and “curse.” This didn’t inform Dean of anything new.

“Cas…” Dean began, not sure of the direction he wanted to go in.

Cas spared him from having to decide. “It’s okay. I understand. You need to return to your family, your life…”

Dean tentatively reached out to hold Cas’s hand. “Come with me.”

Cas shook his head. “I can’t leave.”

“You can’t spend the rest of your life alone on an island with occasional visitors. That’s horrible.”

“Why do you care? You met me yesterday.” Cas said dejectedly.

Dean smiled sadly. “Maybe your ‘curse’ applies to both sides.”

Cas looked up at him, hope in his eyes. “You… what do you smell?” He asked suddenly.

Dean furrowed his brow but answered anyway, “Burgers, my car, whiskey, and honey.”

“Honey?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s… That’s--”

“You,” Dean finished. “Yeah, I realized that last night.”

Some plant giggled. Cas turned pink and looked down in slight embarrassment. 

“Every time someone washes up on that shore, I know I’m going to be heartbroken.” Cas traced the pattern on his teacup with his thumb. “But I still fall in love every time. And they always leave me.”

“Come with me. I won’t leave without you.” Dean insisted.

“No. I’m imprisoned here. If I try to leave I just end up right back here.” Cas’s eyes were filled with tears. “Every single person who comes here has tried. It never works.”

Dean got out of his chair and knelt next to Cas, pulling him into a hug.

Cas stood up, an idea forming in his mind. He grabbed Dean’s hand and escorted him to one of the flower pots in the far corner by a small window. This one was an electric blue with what looked like two-inch-long crystals hanging from the flowers. Cas pulled one away from the plant and handed it to Dean. The crystal started to glow more white in his hold, as did the others still attached The crystal was comfortingly warm and the light pulsated as Dean examined it.

Cas took one for himself as well. “It lights up when one of us touches it.”

“Yeah, I bet you give these to all your visitors, huh?” Dean asked jokingly. 

“No.” Cas stroked his crystal thoughtfully and kissed Dean’s blushing cheek. 

They made their way down to the beach, Dean admiring the gorgeous garden. As they reached the shore, where a small raft had appeared seemingly on its own, the two men faced each other. Dean was trying to memorize every detail of Cas’s face when he was pulled in by the collar for one last kiss. 

Dean was found by a fishing vessel headed to Florida. The sailors hauled him aboard and gave him a towel. He refused to tell them where he came from; only where he was going. They didn’t have a working phone, but they assured him they would take him to land as soon as possible, free of charge. 

Once he was dry, Dean started to wander around the boat. Two fishermen watched as he stared wistfully out at the horizon. 

“What do you think his story is?”

“See that necklace he’s fiddling with? Definitely a lover’s trinket.”

“Ah, so it’s heartbreak.”

“Obviously.”

“Then how the fuck did he end up floating in the ocean on a tiny raft?”

“Ex took the whole continent with them in the divorce?”

Dean was deaf to the sailors’ snickers. He stroked the crystal, which he had tied on a string around his neck, with his thumb absentmindedly. He felt it heat up under his fingers and looked down to see it glowing. Cas’s face on the beach appeared in his mind and tears filled his eyes. Dean wiped them away and tried to instead focus on wondering whether Cas was painting his face on the wall or making a tapestry. Perhaps he was singing to his plants or drinking tea. 

The boat finally reached land. Dean thanked the fishermen profusely and ran to the nearest payphone. He inserted the quarters given to him by one of his rescuers and dialed Sam’s number. 

“Hello? Who is this?”

“Heya, Sammy.”

“Oh my god, Dean? I thought you were—”

“Dead, I know. Sorry about that.”

“Where have you been for the past three weeks?”

“Three weeks?” Dean put a hand on his face in exasperation. 

“It doesn’t matter, I’m just glad you’re okay. Where are you?”

“Jacksonville, Florida.”

“I can be there in five hours.”

Dean waited in the park. A few different people went up to him and asked why he’d been sitting on a bench for so long. One old woman even offered to buy him lunch. He politely declined but since five hours had passed, he asked to borrow her phone. 

When Sam finally arrived, he barrelled into Dean, trapping him in a hug. Dean patted him on the back halfheartedly before pulling away. 

“Dean, where the hell have you been?” Sam was panting. 

“You wouldn’t believe me.”

“Did you meet someone?” Sam glared at him without anger. 

“Who do you think I met in the middle of the ocean? A mermaid?” Dean forced a laugh. Sam bit back a retort upon seeing Dean’s sad expression. 

“What’s that?” Sam asked once they’d gotten into the car.

“Nothing,” Dean answered, tucking the necklace under his uniform. It didn’t light up, which Dean was both relieved and slightly disappointed about. 

“One day you’re gonna tell me what happened, because it changed you.”

Dean chuckled a little. He got one more glimpse of the ocean in the distance before Sam started to drive in the other direction. “One day.”

**Author's Note:**

> i might make this into an original work... who knows. 
> 
> constructive criticism is welcome :)


End file.
